


How Ulfberth Met Adrianne

by FanficsbyVe



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 03:45:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8385976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanficsbyVe/pseuds/FanficsbyVe
Summary: The Dovahkiin asks the owners of Warmaiden's  how they met. One-shot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short, humorous fic in-between smutfics that I didn't put a lot of effort into but really wanted to type out, of one of my favorite games.

Of all the places in Skyrim, the one city the Dovahkiin was always happy to see was Whiterun. It was the first large town the warrior had come across when escaping Helgen and the place where the truth about their destiny was revealed. As the savior of the world, the one meant to defeat Alduin, the World-Eater, himself. The Dragonborn.

Yet more than anything, Whiterun was dear to the Dovahkiin because of its people. They were nothing if not hardy and kind, with one glaring exception, and had provided the first home the warrior had ever known. Even now, the modest house in the Plains district was a haven of rest and a great place to stay at when simply wanting to visit some friends.

One of the people it was always a pleasure to spend time with was an affable Nord by the name of Ulfberth War-Bear. The two of them were currently sharing a drink at the Bannered Mare, listening to the music of the bard. He and his wife Adrianna Avenicci were the owners of Warmaiden’s, a store that sold anything related to smithing. She too was here, though she had just left the table.

Ulfberth quickly glanced over at his wife Adrianne, who was getting another ale, glaring as the bard made eyes at her and flashing his war axe. The Dragonborn snickered at this, but it also brought up something the wanderer had wondered about for quite a while. Now seemed like a decent time to ask.

“Some people must have frowned on the fact that you married an Imperial.”

Ulfberth shrugged. “Many did. They wondered out loud whether I thought a Nord woman wasn’t good enough. Thought I was just after something exotic.” 

The Dovahkiin frowned, a little shocked by the racism even now. “Obviously, you didn’t listen.”

The Nord huffed. “Why should I? I have no time for fools who think their frozen dung smells better than everyone else’s. Adrianne is as good as any Nord maiden and at least as tough. I couldn’t think of a better wife.”

The warrior smiled a little at that. Obviously, not everyone was of the opinion that Skyrim just belonged to the Nords and frankly, that was a good thing. Now very comfortable with the subject, it was time for a second question.

“So, how did you meet her?”

Ulfberth’s eyes lit up. He took a swig of his mead before quickly looking around. Then he grinned broadly.

“Oh, that’s quite a story.”

_“Did you hear? Balgruuf has hired a new steward. An Imperial!”_

_The group of young Nord bachelors that Ulfberth was part of let out a collective grumble. It was late in the evening at the Drunken Huntsman and tensions, as well as alcohol levels, were running high. Skyrim was going through a difficult time with the Civil War and this only increased the frustrations felt at the end of the day._

_“So he’s clearly chosen his side then. He’s not interested in Ulfric’s dream of independence.”_

_“It may also be a diversion. To keep the Empire off his back.”_

_“Ha! Balgruuf doesn’t have the spine for that!”_

_Soon, the conversation turned darker and darker, as more mead was consumed and more complaints arose. Inevitably, worship of Talos also made it into the list of subjects and naturally, that didn’t improve things either. And as if Boethiah herself commanded it, it was at that moment two Imperials entered the establishment._

_The man, Ulfberth noticed, was clad in fine garbs and looked highly uncomfortable. The woman, much younger and likely his daughter, was dressed in the clothes typical of a blacksmith. He saw how the man leaned over the counter, awkwardly so, asking the innkeeper Elrindir some questions._

_“Excuse me, could I rent a room here? I need a place for my daughter and I to stay until the Jarl gives us permanent accommodations.”_

_He spoke softly, or clearly tried to, but it was still loud enough for Ulfberth and the other drunken men to hear. Already annoyed and encouraged by too much mead, they all turned their heads in the direction of the new arrivals. Soon, the first of them opened their mouth to start the storm that was already brewing!”_

_“How about you get your accommodations back in Cyrodiil? Balgruuf does bad enough without you!”_

_Ulfberth could already see the man cringe, though the woman remained unaffected. Still, that sign of weakness was enough. The other men quickly started spewing their discontent as well, in a never-ending barrage of insults._

_“We don’t need more Imperials pouring in! We already have the Aldmeri Dominion that you let in! We don’t need you to make it worse!”_

_“Skyrim was doing fine before the Empire too!”_

_“You want us to be Imperials, that’s it? We already have your Gods and your crostata, but we will remain true Nords!”_

_“What’s next? We have to wear those same silky fabrics as you? This is a land of real men, not Imperial fobs!”_

_By now, the Imperial was practically shrinking and this only fueled the hilarity of the drunken group. Yet in their haze of mead and flared tensions, they barely noticed how the woman straightened her back. She calmly walked over to them, before reaching the table and putting her hands on it. Even though her eyes were as hot as a forge, her voiced remained even._

_“It is not our fault that you men are unhappy with the situation. It’s also not our fault that you just sit here quaffing mead and complaining instead of doing anything useful. Why don’t you take the position instead? Then you can make a difference. Like true Nords.”_

_Suddenly, all of the Drunken Huntsman went so quiet one could hear a pin drop. The laughter of the drunken group stilled and all of them looked at her in dead silence. A few jaws hung open, stunned at the foreign woman’s words. She had hit a sore spot, one that few of them liked admitting to. Even Ulfberth couldn’t help but feel insulted. Who was an Imperial to say who was a true Nord or not?_

_He slowly rose from his seat, towering over her and looking her straight at the eye. “You have an awful lot of gall for an Imperial girlie.”_

_The woman practically smirked. “And you have an awfully fragile ego for a people who boast of hardiness. Get back to your honeyed drinks and leave us be, unless you plan to do more than drunkenly boast.”_

_Those words, spoken in a calm, matter-of-fact way, was what did it. In any other case, he may have simply laughed. Now, in his mead-addled mind, stupidity drove him forward._

_He reached forward, grabbing her by the collar and pulling her further over the table. He could hear the Imperial, her father, shriek and his friend both laugh and gasp. Of course, he had no real intention of hurting her, but by Talos, he definitely knew how to intimidate, especially a small foreigner._

_“Who are you to tell me what to do? Some Imperial court lady who never suffered a rough day or a cut of a sword in her life? I can break you in half if I wanted t…”_

_That was all he could say before suddenly, the image of an incoming flagon obscured his vision. It came in at high velocity and when the metal connected with his face, there was an audible, painful crack. The next thing he knew, blood spurted out his nose and the stink of mead was all over him._

_On instinct, he tried to stem the bleeding and it was only then he realized what exactly had happened. So did the rest of his friends apparently. The Imperial woman glared at him, furiously and without fear. She casually grabbed a nearby cloth from the table and wiped off the blood and mead off her own hands, a distasteful look on her face. She then turned her tranquil ire back to him._

_“You could break me in half, but instead I’ve broken your nose. In case you want to know, I’m a blacksmith and I know how to use those weapons too. So if any of your drunkards want to test your skills against a sober opponent, be my guest.”_

_Nobody in the entire inn responded. How could they, really? Nobody had ever expected that something like this would happen. That one small woman would manage to lay a hit on someone as fierce that his nickname was War-Bear. That alone made any man hesitant to actually take up on her challenge._

_The Imperial woman nodded, taking the quiet for ascent. “Thought so. Enjoy your drinks, men.”_

_With those words, she finally walked away, taking her father and pulling him with her. She then stomped out of the Drunken Huntsman, presumably going to the Bannered Mare instead. Still, the silence brought on by her actions still lasted for several more moments, before only gradually dissipating when Elindir asked if anyone wanted an ale._

_Ulberth, in the meantime, was still stemming the blood flowing from his nose. He looked down at the item that had caused it and noted a large dent in the shape of his face in it. As he tried to apply a simple healing spell to mend the injury, he realized he’d definitely picked the wrong opponent today._

_Still, he found he wasn’t exactly mad at the woman who’d inflicted it on him. Most people dared not face him when he was drunk and here this much smaller woman not only did, but put him in his place as well. If anything, he was impressed. That and more than a little intrigued._

_He smiled and turned to his friends. “I’m going to marry her one day, you know.”_

“And that’s how I met my wife.”

The Dovahkiin simply stared and kept on doing so until it became apparent it was rather rude to do so. At home, there were plenty of tales of love at first sight between star-crossed lovers, but those usually didn’t involve broken noses. This was definitely…different. To be fair, what else could be expected really?

Suddenly, the drinks they’d ordered looked very appealing and the warrior quickly took a sip while formulating a response. “That’s a lovely story.”

The Nord grinned and it was just then that Adrianne returned. She was carrying a drink of her own but rather than taking her seat, she instead got on her husband’s lap. He clearly didn’t mind.

“Having a lovely chat about dragons, Ulfberth?”

“Oh no, I just told our friend here how we met.”

“Including the dented flagon?”

“Of course. Those were the days.”

She laughed and kissed him, prompting the Dovahkiin to look away for a moment. The warrior was still busy processing just how exactly mead, Nord pride and nosebleeds could lead to a happy marriage. In the end, however, the Dragonborn decided not to. By now, it was best not to question the strange courtships of Skyrim.


End file.
